


On the Persistent Fear of Humans

by sayakamikiswife



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Boys In Love, California, Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Heavy Angst, High School, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Love at First Sight, Love/Hate, M/M, Teen Angst, Teenage Drama, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 18:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19836325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayakamikiswife/pseuds/sayakamikiswife
Summary: Feliciano Vargas has started his first year of American public school in Los Angeles, California, after spending his childhood homeschooled. On the other hand, Ludwig Beilschmidt is a detached, yet diligent transfer from Berlin, Germany. The two struggle to maintain their relationship as they realize that their school is much more violent and cruel than they'd anticipated.*contains homophobic and offensive language, homophobia in general, takes place in the current day (2020) Los Angeles, violence (not TOO graphic but I can't guarantee anything), smut, fluff, and a LOT of angst*multiple relationships, but 90% GerIta





	On the Persistent Fear of Humans

Feliciano heard of the German transfer student mostly from Lovino’s complaints and Francis’s gossip. They told him that he used to be in elementary school with them when they were younger.

Feli had never known of the boy because he spent most of his younger life being homeschooled by Grandpa Augustus. Lovino would have been homeschooled as well, if not for his poor behavior, which prompted their nonno into sending him to public school. Eventually, by freshman year of high school, Feliciano had gotten tired of being homeschooled by Augustus. He’d stolen the high school’s welcoming brochure from Lovino and read about the fun clubs, events, and celebrations. He even learned of a European Culture Club! Besides, making friends with animals that would pass by the Vargas yard and familiarizing himself with neighbors of all different backgrounds was fun, but Feliciano decided that since he was officially a teenager, he should begin making friends his own age and maturity level (and species).

But from what Lovino was telling him of this new transfer student all the way from Berlin, Feliciano was not very excited to start his high school experience anymore.

According to Lovino, the transfer student was a “cocky bastard who thought he was better than everyone else and always got on my nerves.” Lovino would then proceed to cuss the poor German transfer out some more before angrily cooking tomato pudding while complaining to Antonio on the phone, which he tended to do when his mood was especially poor.

Francis was different, however. He said the German transfer used to be the scrawniest, funniest-looking kid he’d ever seen. He wore silly black suspenders and a tight button-up white shirt underneath. But the funniest part about his appearance, Francis said, was that his blond hair was cut like a bowl. Kids used to call him “coconut” or “bowl-cut” behind his back until his big brother Gilbert found out and beat up any kid who he knew called his precious little brother such names. The kid had bird-like legs and always carried himself shyly around school. But one hilarious and unexpected aspect of his personality, Francis said, was that he always challenged the teacher in her own class. He was one of the brightest students in his grade and always finished his work remarkably early. That, however, only garnered him more hate from other students for his so-called cocky, tryhard attitude.

“I bet that stupid bowl-cut tryhard still has the same haircut and suspenders! I can’t wait to kick his bastard Wienerschnitzel ass when he gets to school!” Lovino spat as he stirred mashed up tomatoes in the iron pot.

“What did he ever do to you, Fratello?” Feliciano inquired.

“He always started fights with me by saying stupid things like, ‘You shouldn’t be acting like this,’ or, ‘You shouldn’t be doing this,’ every day and ran off to hide behind his bastard brother before I could lay a good hit on his coconut hair!” Lovino shouted. Feliciano jumped slightly.

“It’s been years since then,” Feliciano reasoned. “He’s changed, Fratello, I assure you.”

“Hah!” Lovino scoffed.

He had ignored Feliciano’s attempts at calming him down and stayed moody for the rest of the day, even crumpling his homework up and hitting a tree with a bat in their front yard for almost thirty minutes straight.

So since that day, Feliciano feared for the life of that poor German transfer student.

The day before his junior year would officially start, Feliciano got his schedule, which listed his periods: Trigonometry, Art 3, P.E., English 3, AP World History, and Environmental Science. He was disappointed to see that he shared only one class with Lovino (Art 3), but the latter was pleased.

“Less stupid little brother for me,” Lovino boasted.

He shared English 3, AP World History, and P.E. with Francis. They also joined the European Culture Club together, mostly for the food.

“Hey, we have a lot of the same classes, don’t we?” Antonio patted Lovino’s head with a smile as the Italian turned away and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oy! Francis! Antonio! Remember me?”

A strange yet handsome-looking albino kid pushed his way between the Vargas brothers and swung his arms around each of the Italians. “Haven’t seen you guys in years!” he exclaimed. His eyes were scarlet with a hint of violet, and his skin was ghostly pale, like flour. The stranger’s hair was ruffled and unkempt, which complimented his roguish and confident smile well.

“You! Jerk bastard!” Lovino pushed the albino away angrily and swung at the taller kid, who effortlessly blocked his blows. “Gilbert Fuckfaceschmidt!”

“You’re the one who tried to beat my little brother up, aren’t you?” Gilbert “Fuckfaceschmidt” snickered jovially, not even remotely hindered by Lovino’s onslaught of attacks, which would have had Feliciano highly distressed.

Petrified, Feliciano attempted to break up the fight, desperately pleading in Italian at Lovino to calm down. Francis pulled him away though, and with a satisfied smirk, said, “They’re always like this. In the end, nobody gets hurt.”

Dejected, Feliciano witnessed the exchange progress.

“He was always an arrogant little bitch! Where is he now? Does he still wear those dumbass suspenders? I hope they get strapped on so tight he gives himself a wedgie,” Lovino spat.

“You were the one that attacked him. I was only protecting him from you, although there’s clearly not much to protect him from,” Gilbert responded, laughing at his own insult.

“How dare you? Wait until I see your stupid ass, scrawny, useless brother,” Lovino growled.

“Scrawny? About that—”

Before Gilbert could finish his sentence, Lovino stopped his assault and pushed past the albino. He stormed through the hallways in search for Gilbert’s little brother, which earned him a handful of glares and protests from fellow students.

“Speaking of Ludwig, how is he? Is he well?” Antonio asked, his smile pleasant.

“Better than he was when he was in America for the first half of his life,” Gilbert sighed, scratching the back of his head as he loosened his shirt collar.

“That poor boy always suffered from bad health. And he had kids like Lovino wanting to beat him up every day,” Francis sighed, his tone melodramatic and exaggeratedly distraught, which was typical for him.

“He’s a lot healthier now!” Gilbert added. “Back in Berlin, somewhere around middle school, he started really caring for his own wellness. As a matter of fact, I think he overcompensated.” Looking down at Feliciano, Gilbert grinned and quickly changed the subject as his interest was now entirely directed at this unfamiliar Italian. “Is this Feliciano Vargas? The Feliciano Vargas?”

“Nice to meet you!” Feliciano grinned. “I’m Lovi’s younger brother! Sorry about him; he can be really scary sometimes, but he’s actually caring and kind and has a big heart. I’m guessing you’re Gilbert?”

Gilbert chuckled. “How’d you guess?”

“Francis told me,” Feliciano answered.

“I also told Gil about you while FaceTiming him. We talked a lot when he was still in Germany,” Francis explained. “He knew Lovino had a little brother, but not much else.”

“You look a lot like Lovi, to an extent. Same curls, you’re both on the skinnier side…He’s just a meaner, darker-looking version of you,” Gilbert chuckled again. And he was right. While Lovino had an olive skin tone and dark, chocolate brown locks with matching eyes, Feliciano’s hair was a soft, brownish auburn pigment, and he possessed warm honey-colored eyes. His skin was paler (like milk, his Nonno used to say), and his expression was generally much more friendly than Lovino’s hostile one.

“Thanks! Does your brother look anything like you?” Feliciano asked, enjoying his conversation with this strange German.

Gilbert shook his head. He explained, “I’m albino, so we can’t really look alike unless he was born albino, too.”

“He has soft, luscious blond hair, last I remember,” Francis said wistfully, enunciating the world ‘luscious’. “And bright blue eyes. But he was always so reserved. I wish he talked more; I would have loved to bond with him. Oh, and he was very, very, very skinny! A frail little thing.”

“Unfortunately, he’s still reserved. But he’s changed quite a bit in the looks department,” Gilbert folded his arms proudly.

“Really?” Antonio said, fascinated. “How so?”

As if on cue, Lovino screamed at the top of his lungs, “HAS ANYONE HERE SEEN A LUDWIG?” Judging by the looks of it, Lovino had scoured the entire school and didn’t manage to find the blond-haired, blue-eyed, scrawny, suspender-wearing loser he remembered from elementary school.

Instead, someone entirely different answered his calls. And quite calmly so, especially for someone who was being hunted down by an angry Italian.

“That’s me. What is it?”

Sure, he was blond and blue-eyed like Francis, Antonio, and Lovino described, and he was rather pale, but everything else was simply...not there.

For example, instead of tacky suspenders and matching shorts, this Ludwig wore well-tailored dress pants and shiny black shoes, as well as a button-up with the sleeves folded to his elbows. Instead of a scrawny, pathetic frame, this Ludwig was tall, towering, and built like a war tank. He was the most robust-looking person Feliciano had ever seen. And his hair was far from a bowl cut. It was slicked back, neatly groomed.

“Not you,” Lovino hissed, seeming not to understand that the Ludwig he was looking for was right in front of him. “Scrawny. Bowl cut. Suspenders. Have you seen that kid around?”

“Nein—er, no, I haven’t. Perhaps if you told me his last name, I could direct you to him,” Ludwig suggested.

“Beilschmidt,” Lovino replied, his tone laced with such distaste that the surname might as well have been venom.

“That’s me,” Ludwig said.

Lovino hesitated for a second. He wavered. But, quickly recovering from his momentary shock, he exclaimed, “You’re the annoying dumbass bitch from elementary!”

“Oh, we attended the same primary school? You must be Lovino Vargas, then,” Ludwig said, unbothered.

Before Lovino could act on his hatred, Antonio quickly stood between Ludwig and the Italian, smiling awkwardly. “Sorry about Lovi. He’s just a bit salty since, well, you were a bit of, uh, how do I say this without starting beef? Um, you were a bit of a…a…puta.”

“A what?” Ludwig queried.

“Never mind! Forget what I said,” Antonio said while pushing a frenzied Lovino away from the scene. “Have a nice day!” the Spaniard added.

While Antonio directed Lovino to a group of cute girls who caught the latter’s attention, Ludwig made his way to Francis, Gilbert, and Feliciano.

“Hey there, Bruder,” Gilbert patted the blond’s back. “Everyone, this is Ludwig. I’m sure you remember him from years ago, but he’s a bit harder to recognize nowadays. And understandably so. I mean, just look at his pecs.”

Before Gilbert could pat Ludwig’s chest as well, the younger brother grasped his hand and twisted it, earning a pained hiss from Gilbert hissed.

“Mon amie, he’s gotten quite handsome, hasn’t he?” Francis exclaimed.

Feliciano strode up to Ludwig, not as bothered by his intimidating stature as everyone else was. “Ciao! My name is Feliciano. I’m Lovino’s brother. Don’t worry too much about him, he’s the best fratello ever. I didn’t get to meet you like Lovi or Francis did because my nonno homeschooled me until this year, but I’m glad to meet you now!”

Ludwig didn’t say much. He only nodded and said, “Nice to meet you too, Feliciano.”

“The orientation was shit, as per usual,” Lovino complained as he stabbed into his pasta. “Jerk bastard Ludwig got all buff while he was in Germany. And when I tried to hit on some cute girls, they didn’t really give a fuck. Today was ass, and not the good kind.”

“Ludwig seems nice,” Feliciano defended. “He offered to help you find, um, himself. And he didn’t hate you or anything, even though you really wanted to beat him up. And he’s extremely handsome and muscular, and I like his eyes.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause he looks like that kid you fell head over heels for a few years back,” Lovino retorted. “What was his name again? Wasn’t he German also?”

“That’s not true,” Feliciano said. His voice was quieter. He didn’t like when Lovino mentioned that boy, especially in such a manner. “And at least I fell in love with someone my age. Unlike you with Miss Laura.”

“Laura was hot. Go fuck yourself.” Lovino slammed his fork on his plate and stomped into his room.

A confused Augustus entered the dining room from his comfort on the living room couch in front of the TV, where Italian news was being broadcasted.

“Did something happen again?” Augustus asked.

“Lovino started a fight with someone at school again,” Feliciano sighed. “Or, he tried to.”

“Typical of Lovino,” Augustus said. He took a seat next to Feli, who was finishing his pasta. Lovino had barely touched his, aside from all of the stabbing he’d done with his fork. “He was kind of like me when I was younger. Brash, reckless, fierce, assertive. Great with the ladies.”

“Uh...I wouldn’t say Lovino is great with girls—”

Augustus didn’t listen, however, and went on a tangent about how wonderful his life in Rome was before he migrated to America. Such stories were typical in the Vargas household and seemed to be part of the family’s nighttime routine. Augustus talked on and on about the street fights he won, the parties he had, the women he met—ones from Verona, Sicily, Venice, and even foreign ladies—from Greece, Russia, Germany, Scandinavia, Spain, Turkey, and Portugal.

Feliciano hardly got any sleep that night since Augustus’s stories had captured his intrigue and kept him awake until one in the morning.

AP World History was immediately one of Feliciano’s favorite classes, aside from Art 3.

The teacher, a pretty young woman named Mrs. Wang either in her late twenties or early thirties, greeted each student with a handshake and a warm smile when they walked through her door. She was of Chinese descent and had cooked delicious dim sum for the class. She then handed out the syllabus and quickly went over it, emphasizing the fact that her class would assign large group projects with weeks to work on them rather than excessive amounts of homework, and that her final would be a project and an all multiple choice test.

She also let the students choose their seats, but warned that she wouldn’t hesitate to move anyone around if they became too disruptive.

Francis and Feliciano immediately ran to each other, overjoyed at the fact that they would spend the school year sitting next to one another.

“Francis, isn’t that Ludwig over there?” Feliciano asked.

Indeed it was.

There Ludwig was, standing like a confused deer. While everyone grouped together with their cliques or met up with their best friends and sat in pairs, Ludwig seemed to be at a loss.

“Poor thing. Being new must be difficult,” Francis lamented.

“Ciao! Ciao!” Feliciano called, waving at Ludwig. The blond looked around perplexed until he pointed toward himself with a raised eyebrow, mouthing the word question, ‘Me?’.

Feliciano nodded enthusiastically, pointing to the seat in front of him and Francis.

Ludwig dubiously made his way to the pair, setting his backpack and coat down.

“I saw you yesterday. You looked pretty lonely, and I really want to be friends with you, so I thought it’d be a good idea to let you sit with me and Francis,” Feliciano explained once Ludwig had his things set down.

“You always dress so formally,” Francis commented, referring to his tucked in button-up and dress shirt, a similar outfit to what he wore to the orientation. “Is that your thing? Either way, it’s much better than those suspenders and shorts, certainly.”

Ludwig stuttered at first, unsure of how to respond. Then he managed to say (in a moderately thick German accent), “I just prefer dress clothes, I suppose. And thank you, Feliciano.”

“You remember my name!” Feliciano smiled so brightly that he could have lit up all of the hallways if he wanted to.

“Excuse me.”

The trio looked up to an unfamiliar, short kid with a pair of neon headphones, an oversized hoodie, black hair, and manga in his left hand and his school bag in his right.

“Hello there!” Feliciano greeted.

“My name is Kiku Honda. May I sit at this empty seat?” Kiku asked.

“Of course,” Francis smiled, welcoming the newcomer.

“Are you from Japan?” Feliciano asked, his smile matching Francis’s.

“Yes. I used to go to school in Osaka. Then my father moved here for a business promotion. He took me and my mother with him,” Kiku explained.

“What are those headphones for? Do you like listening to music a lot?” Feliciano inquired.

“Sometimes. But I usually play video games or watch anime with them,” Kiku answered.

Their conversation, unfortunately, was cut short when Mrs. Wang stopped the class and started a “Get to Know Me” activity. She was first, of course.

“My name is Chun-Yan Wang, and I was born in Shanghai. I moved to the United States when I was eleven with my parents and married a wonderful man and had a lovely son. His name is Yao Wang, and he’s a senior here. I bet some of you may know him. He’s head of the Mathletes, in Multivariable, AP Statistics, and all that good stuff. We cook dim sum together. As a matter of fact, he helped me make the dim sum you guys ate today! He’s quite short, as you can see—” Mrs. Wang showed the class a picture of Yao, whose blackish-brown hair was long and in a low ponytail. His appearance, admittedly, did seem really feminine and small, “—but he loves martial arts! He’s a third-degree black belt.”

And so the chain of “Get to Know Me”’s began.

There was Durante Titanio, who was a handsome soccer player that looked quite similar to Ludwig, except for his more slender figure, light dust of freckles, and bright, ear-to-ear grin. “I like soccer, surfing, science, and math. I have two younger brothers and I was born here, in California.”

Then there was Cecilia Shirley, Chase O’Connell, Jackson Lee, Nicole Young, and so on so forth.

“My name is Feliciano Vargas. I was born in Venice, but I was brought here when I was really young, so I don’t remember what it was like. I have an older brother named Lovino who looks a lot like me, but he was born in Rome, not Venice. I like art, especially painting, and good food. Oh, and naps!”

“My name is Francis Bonnefoy. I’m president of Theater Club, obviously, and the best thespian in not only this school, but all of America. I like fashion and beauty. I’m originally from Paris, but moved to California just before kindergarten. But don’t worry, Los Angeles is just as pretty as Paris, despite popular belief.”

Francis earned himself a few groans and eye rolls.

“My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt. I’m from Berlin. I wish to pursue a career in either business or engineering. I like dogs. I have an older brother named Gilbert Beilschmidt. He is a senior here.”

Once the “Get to Know Me” game finished, the bell rang, and the class was over.

Feliciano was sitting beneath the statue of the school mascot, a gladiator standing proud with his sword held in the air, drawing quick sketches in his notebook. A good amount were of Ludwig, admittedly. I should really buy a sketchbook for when I’m at school, he thought to himself.

“Hey.”

A pretty girl with short, straight blonde hair, sharp eyebrows, strong features, and a button nose poked Feliciano on his shoulder. She looked like one of the girls his Nonno would tell stories about late at night or after dinner. She had a classy, natural beauty yet a fierceness that was evident about her.

“Ciao!” Feliciano smiled.

His smile faded when he saw the mass of people behind her.

Girls and boys, all with sneers on their faces, looked down on him disdainfully or whispered things between one another with smiles that Feliciano had never seen on a happy person’s face before.

Most of them had AirPods, too.

“What’s your name?” the girl asked.

“Feliciano. I’m new here,” the Italian responded, maintaining his affable demeanor despite how intimidated he truly felt.

“Um, is it all right if we sit here, Feliciano? We’ll just share this place with you, okay?” the girl said.

Before Feli could answer, the mass of people began to sit around him, gradually pushing him further away from his initial, comfortable spot until he relented. They didn’t even let him answer.

He packed his things and with a red face, scrambled to his feet and walked away as quickly as possible.

Maybe I should’ve sat with Lovi or Francis instead. But I don’t want to intrude. What if their friends don’t like me? Feliciano thought.

I made such a fool of myself back there, too.

But he made his choice. He was going to seek out Ludwig.

“You were lonely?” Ludwig repeated.

“Yes. And I found a comfy spot to sit and draw, but I got kicked out by a really pretty girl and her scary-looking group of   
friends who wore expensive-looking street clothes,” Feliciano sighed.

Ludwig nodded up behind Feliciano, the other turning around curiously. “Them?” Ludwig asked, pointing over Feli’s shoulder.

The Italian turned around to the same mass and people, running down the hallway. Well, the girl was missing, and the mass was only about half as small, so one could assume that the rest were sitting on Feliciano’s old spot.

Feli sighed. “Yes, them,” he admitted.

“Gilbert informed me about them. He said Francis warned him of them before our flight from Berlin to Los Angeles,” Ludwig said matter-of-factly. He leaned against the wall, opening his book again. It seemed to be a book on economics from what Feliciano could gather. Feli himself wasn’t much of a reader; he preferred the vibrance of visual beauty over words on a page.

Both curious and desperate to rekindle a conversation with his distant German transfer, Feliciano asked, “What kind of warnings?”

“Mostly ones about their character, I suppose,” Ludwig answered vaguely.

Feli frowned. Talking to Ludwig would be harder than he had anticipated. “Like what?”

Ludwig looked up at him from the corner of his eye. Inside, Feliciano felt guilty and rather embarrassed. Was Ludwig that bothered by him? Would it be best if he simply left to Francis? But he wanted so badly to bond with Ludwig more. Ludwig seemed nice, genuine, and hardworking. Besides, he was really handsome!

Thankfully, the blond answered. “From what Gilbert told me in our rush to get on the airplane, they’re manipulative. If they don’t like you, they’ll try to make your life hell. And they participate in what Gilbert said was ‘dangerous.’ He didn’t elaborate. Likely because we were busy boarding a plane and gathering our records,” Ludwig said.

Dangerous? Like what? Did they kill people? Rob?

During the previous summer, Feliciano would conduct his research on the wild habitat that was an American public school by binging as many high school-centered American films and TV shows as he could (much to Lovino’s angry annoyance). There were always certain groups and kinds of people. The scariest were the “top” ones who ruled the school, but Feliciano hadn’t come across any so far.

Were those people the popular students, like the films suggested?

“Are they popular? Like, top of the school hierarchy?” Feliciano inquired.

Ludwig snickered, finally placing his bookmark and closing his book, setting it to the side. “Not necessarily,” Ludwig said. “Just scary.”

Feli grinned widely. Ludwig had a really pretty smile. It was surprisingly gentle for such harsh and powerful features. His eyes became much kinder, the cold icy blue of his eyes becoming a bright, clear aqua-colored sky instead. The sharpness on his face would soften and smooth over. Feliciano liked that very much. To him, Ludwig’s smile was one of the prettiest things he’d witnessed in a long time.

“Scary? Like ghosts?” Feliciano asked, leaning closer.

Again, Ludwig snickered, which made Feliciano’s heart flutter. “Not ghosts. I can assure you that they’re human. I think that makes it even scarier,” Ludwig replied.

“Why do you think humans are scarier than ghosts?” Feliciano queried. “Is it because ghosts can’t really touch you, and humans can? What about demons then? Artificial intelligence? Powerful aliens? Vampires?”

“Something like that,” Ludwig’s smile was back as his blue eyes finally connected with Feliciano’s amber ones. “Humans are certainly not stronger than the robots and vampires you see onscreen, but they’re scarier,” the German added.

“How?” Feliciano said. He was liking this conversation. Ludwig’s words were interesting, and Feli loved the way the blond’s deep voice articulated his words so fluidly and maturely.

“Think of it,” Ludwig began, “what’s more likely to kill you? An alien overlord from another dimension straight out of a Lovecraftian novel or a human?”

“But the aliens and vampires and robots are stronger! They could blow up galaxies and planets and are as fast as light! Humans aren’t like that!” Feliciano protested. Just thinking of those fantastical monsters made Feli shiver. He couldn’t comprehend how someone could believe a tiny human would be scarier than any monsters he’d seen in science fiction movies.

“Well, they have one weakness, and that one weakness is that they aren’t real,” Ludwig retorted. “In the real world, they’re nothing to worry about.”

Feliciano looked down. He didn’t know how to respond; high school movies and books and online manuals never instructed him on people like Ludwig. He knew how to be nice to the big and scary football players so that they wouldn’t beat him to a bloody pulp, he knew to avoid the vicious bullies, he knew not to get in the way of the blonde, popular cheerleader, and he knew to be compassionate toward outcasts and nerds. But Ludwig didn’t fit into any of those categories, so Feli was at a loss.

Trying to change the subject to something more light-hearted, Feli pulled out his notebook and pencil and eraser. “I’ve been sketching you lately. I think you’re really handsome. Can I draw you right now?” Feli requested.

“Do you always arbitrarily ask people you find visually appealing if you can illustrate them?” Ludwig asked.

Feli, admittedly, didn’t understand half of what Ludwig had just said but nodded enthusiastically nevertheless.

While drawing the German, Feliciano noticed more about his appearance than he did before: the way his brows slanted downwards, giving him a stern expression, his deep-set, sharp blue eyes, his strong jawline and cheekbones, his proud posture, and, of course, his muscles. How could Feliciano not notice them?

“Are you in any sports?” Feliciano asked. In movies and books featuring American public high schools, athletics was always a main focus. Every cool and successful student was in a sport. Feliciano didn’t sign up for any sports, however, since he was never much of the athletic type. Although he loved football, well, soccer, to death, he didn’t like the idea of having to compete against other schools and spend time after school practicing or stressing over games. He’d much rather play it for fun and in his free time, free of competition.

“I’m planning on joining the soccer team,” Ludwig said, “Or American football.”

Feliciano wasn’t surprised Ludwig was considering soccer. After all, soccer is extremely popular in Germany, as it was in Italy. But American football? “Why American football?” Feliciano wondered out loud.

“I have the skills required for that sport, and I have studied it a lot back in Berlin in preparation for my transfer to America. I’ve become interested in it, quite honestly,” Ludwig admitted.

But wasn’t American football really scary and really high-stakes? From what Feliciano had gathered from watching so many teenage dramas and reading on American public high schools, he deduced that football players were really intimidating (and sometimes downright mean) people and that football is a very rigorous and physically demanding sport.

What if Ludwig got hurt? Or worse, what if the football players didn’t like him and were mean to him?

“Well, good luck!” Feliciano smiled, ignoring his worrisome thoughts. “If you get in to any teams, which you definitely will since you’re strong and smart, I’ll be sure to go with you to practice every day!”

“You’d...go with me to practice? Why?” Ludwig and Feliciano hardly knew one another. Why would the Italian go out of his way to do something like that? Never in Ludwig’s life had he been met with such devotion.

“Because I like you!” Feliciano replied with a smile brighter than a thousand galaxies. And it was true. Feli wasn’t sure if he liked Ludwig as a friend, a person, or romantically, but he knew that he felt something for the German that made his heart leap with joy, and he truly did want to be around Ludwig more.

The blond glanced down at his book, his face reddening. He opened his mouth, but no words came out, so he closed it. Then, he finally said, “All right, you can come. Can I have your number?”

“Of course!” Feliciano beamed.

They exchanged numbers just seconds before the bell rang, and Feliciano went home happy that day, certain that he had become closer to the mysterious Ludwig Beilschmidt.

To be Continued...

**Author's Note:**

> ummmmmmm so this is based off of my own school/district, so this fic is rlly real to me lmao. this is my second fanfic here, and im rlly excited for this cuz of the big cast and familiar setting! also, NOT ALL AIRPOD USERS ARE SUPERVILLAINS LMAO I USE AIRPODS MYSELF it's just that every intimidating kid at my school USUALLY owns airpods jsjsjsjsj  
> DONT FORGET TO FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM @HETALINUT, AND MY EDITOR'S INSTAGRAM, @PABUTTEGO!!!


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